


Heal the hurts with love

by Khalehla



Series: GeneratioNext [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bullying - mentions, Drama, Emotional, Family Angst, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kids talking about being bullied at school, M/M, Protective Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8648656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/pseuds/Khalehla
Summary: Marc-André knows there’s something very wrong almost immediately, as Niklas and Alexei head towards the car wordlessly, not even mumbling the quiet “hi Dad” that they normally give him on the rare occasions that he does the school pick-up; and rather than jostle for the front seat as they normally would, Niklas instead pushes his twin towards it, climbing into the back as soon as Marc unlocks the car.--In which Marc and Bernd find out that their twins' high school life is far from perfect.A story about dealing with family angst together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is quite a heavy side-story but quite crucial to the development of the tSL family storyline.

Marc-André knows there’s something very wrong almost immediately, as Niklas and Alexei head towards the car wordlessly, not even mumbling the quiet “hi Dad” that they normally give him on the rare occasions that he does the school pick-up; and rather than jostle for the front seat as they normally would, Niklas instead pushes his twin towards it, climbing into the back as soon as Marc unlocks the car.

Marc frowns, but says nothing. The ride home is abnormally quiet; even at their most tired the boys usually chatted lazily or sang along to the radio, but this time, they sit in silence so thick it’s starting to make Marc’s skin itch. He’s not really sure what to do with this, not used to having both boys act like the complete angst-ridden adolescents that thirteen year old boys normally were, but he’s not willing to let this go on for long without at least trying to figure out what was going on.

“What’s going on boys?” Marc asks halfway home, looking sideways at Alexei and in the rearview mirror at Niklas, trying to catch one of their eyes. “I can tell something’s wrong, do you want to talk about it?”

Alexei flickers him a quick glance, but shakes his head; Niklas doesn’t say anything, looking out the window and refusing to turn around.

“Yeah, that’s not helping convince me that everything’s okay, you know,” he says, trying to keep his voice neutral but encouraging. “Nik?”

The elder twin’s eyes are set stubbornly at the passing scenery and even through the mirror, Marc can see the firm set of the young teen’s jaw, so Marc turns to Alexei, hoping his younger son will shed some light on things.

Alexei does manage to say “there’s nothing wrong, Dad,” but that’s obviously a lie, and he resists the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel in frustration. Marc leaves it for now, choosing to wait until they get home so that he can get uninterrupted talk time.

As soon as Marc kills the engine, the boys practically run out of the car, hurrying to pull off their shoes at their clothes bays so that they can escape to the relative safety of their rooms; but Marc’s anticipated this, so before they can run off, he says “Nik, can you wait please?”, choosing to talk to the older boy alone rather than both at the same time, hoping to get a more honest answer this way.

But Niklas clearly doesn’t want to talk, pausing only long enough to say “I’ve got lots of homework,” before trying to follow his brother upstairs.

Marc grits his teeth. “Niklas ter Stegen-Leno, can you come with me, please?”

Niklas stiffens at the use of his full name, and drops his school bag at the foot of the stairs before reluctantly following his dad into the office. Once in, the teen just stands near the door, looking everywhere but at his father.

“Okay something is clearly up, and from the way you’re acting, I’m going to guess that you’re angry at me for some reason. Can you explain what’s going on?” Marc asks, trying to sound encouraging and not annoyed - which is admittedly really hard considering how mulish Niklas is acting.

“Nothing,” Niklas says shortly, and Marc grits his teeth some more.

“That’s a lie,” Marc points out the obvious.

“Well I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And I’m going to insist that you do.”

“What happened not forcing us to do anything we don’t want to?” Niklas snaps, turning away and putting distance between them.

Marc bites back the angry growl threatening to come out. “That doesn’t apply when you’re being deliberately disrespectful. Turn around Nik, I’m not going to talk your back like that.”

The young man turns, but after meeting his eyes for only a brief second, Niklas looks away again then starts pacing.

“Niklas, can you just tell me what _is_ the problem, here?” Marc asks, barely keeping the exasperation out of his voice, watching in growing worry as his son _still_ won’t look at him. It’s glaringly obvious now that the elder twin is angry at him for a specific reason and Marc desperately wants to know _why._

Niklas stops pacing, but his body is incredibly tense as he says through clenched teeth, “You were flirting with her.”

Marc blinks. “What?”

“That _woman_ ,” Niklas practically spits the word out, “that you were talking to at school - you were _flirting_ with her!”

“Flirting?” Marc asks, his brain not quite putting together what his son is trying to say. “I wasn’t flirting with-”

“Don’t deny it, I saw!” Niklas has turned to him now, and Marc reels back from the fury in the young man’s eye. “She was practically all over you and you _let_ her! How _could_ you!”

Marc’s brain has finally, blessedly, caught up with the conversation, but it’s no comfort because he understands where Niklas’s anger is coming from now, seeing in hindsight how it had looked.  And he feels something like a stab to the heart because _his son_ thought that he had deliberately, publicly, flirted with another person, and the hurt so thick in the teen’s voice is telling Marc loud and clear how much of a betrayal his son thinks his actions were.

He’s caught completely by surprise and Niklas looks like he’s about to cry any second now, so Marc pulls his eldest son roughly to him, locking him in his arms when Niklas tries to push him away.

“Stop it!” Marc says, holding on tighter. “Stop it, Nik, and listen to me. It’s not what you think.”

“Yeah?” Niklas asks, disdain in his voice even though he’s stopped pushing at his father. “That’s what people usually say when they’re trying to justify something they shouldn’t have done!”

Marc puts his hands onto his son’s shoulders, bending down slightly so that they’re at eye-level. “You think you know what you saw, but unless you have the right context, you only saw part of the picture, so you don’t really know what happened, do you?”

“I know what I saw,” Niklas insists, turning his head away, his jaws clenched, “so don’t tell me it wasn’t what it looked like! She was touching you!”

“And if you had been close enough you would have heard me asking her not to.”

“You were smiling at her the whole time - that didn’t look like you weren’t enjoying what she was doing!”

“ _Niklas_ ,” Marc grits out, frustration creeping into his voice, “how could you think I’m not telling the truth? Why would you think I would _do_ that?”

“I know what I saw,” Niklas repeats stubbornly, still looking away, and it’s all Marc can do to stop from shaking some sense into him; he wants to, but he stops that impulse because even more than that, Marc wants to smother his eldest son to him until Niklas finally believed him, unable to accept that Niklas could have such a low opinion of him.

“Niklas,” Marc says, gentler this time. “What’s wrong? Why are you so _angry?_ ”

For a few heartbeats, the young man still doesn’t say anything, then his shoulders slump as he demands quietly, devastation in his voice, “How could you do that to Papa?”

“ _Fuck!_ ” The expletive comes out like a gasp and once again Marc pulls Niklas to him, pressing his son’s face to his chest, himself shaking from the hurt. “ _Jesus_ Nik, what did you think I _did?_ I haven’t done anything! I told you what happened, I wasn’t flirting with her!”

The young man hiccups, and Marc, even while holding back his own tears, feels the moisture in his shirt and knows that Niklas is crying. “I saw you,” his son stutters brokenly. “She-, she’s really pretty, and you used to be a footballer and, and footballers marry mo-models, don’t they? And, and you were laughing with her like, like, you liked her touching you, and she’s-”

“Nothing!” Marc interjects sharply, cutting off his son’s rambling, scaring him enough so that Niklas tries to push him away again, but Marc holds on, himself so scared, so confused, and just so damn angry that he wants to break something. Because in a way, Niklas is right, even if he really didn’t have the whole context - Marc should have been firmer, pulled away quicker; they were in public and he knew first hand just how easy it was to misinterpret a moment.

Being away from football had made him lax, gradually forget the lessons they’d so painstakingly learnt while playing, but he should have known, should have been more careful, should have remembered he was in public, and maybe then he wouldn’t feel like someone had yanked a whole bunch of his vital organs out while one of his sons was crying into him because he thought his dad was on the verge of cheating.

“Nothing!” he says again, speaking into Niklas’s ear. “There is no she, there was no flirting and I don’t give a damn if she is a model or not. I’m sorry if it looked that way, but you need to listen to me when I say that I would never, _ever_ , do anything to hurt your Papa, you or Lex, do you understand?”

When Niklas doesn’t say anything, Marc squeezes him, kisses his temple, asks again. “Nik? ”

Niklas sobs, and Marc starts rocking him, something he hasn’t done since the twins were 10, and the fact that they are now only half a foot shorter than him almost breaks Marc; they’re his kids, and it killed him that Niklas could think that Marc was capable of hurting them that way.

“I love him,” he whispers into his son’s ear, rubbing his back gently, again, aching at how long ago it’s been since he’d also last done this. “And you know this, I know you do. When have I ever shown that I don’t love being with Bernd? That I was ever unhappy with us? For so long we had to fight to just survive another month, another year, and when we finally got our act together, finally made it work and had you and Lex, do you seriously think I could give this up now? _Christ_ Nik, I actually tried being happy without him and _it didn’t work_. He means everything to me - Papa, you, Lex - you all mean everything to me! Why would I do anything that could make me _lose_ you?”

Niklas is sniffling, shoulders shaking, and Marc grips him, holding back his own tears.

“I hate her,” the young man eventually whispers. “Her and her stupid kids. I hate them.”

Niklas’s words actually work the miracle of making Marc feel better, and although he’s still incredibly hurt by his son’s words earlier, he at least has context now and can get to the root of Niklas’s actions. He squeezes the young man again, presses another kiss to his temple. “If I let you go, will you tell me what the real problem is?”

Niklas nods, folding into him when Marc loosens his arms, and Marc gently moves them to the couch. “What happened?”

It takes a while, and even when he finally speaks, Niklas stares at the floor the whole time and Marc has to strain in order to hear him.

“They’re such bullies - both of them. Just because their dad is playing basketball in the NBA, they think they own the place.”

Okay, Marc thinks, there’s definitely a back story here.

“Paulo, he’s in the same year as us, he keeps making jokes about how it’s always just Papa that comes to school, and how we don’t have a mom. His parents are _divorced_ , so I don’t know how he thinks he can make fun of us just because he doesn’t know about you! Mario is worse, though. He’s only 11 and he’s the biggest douchebag ever. Did you know he told one of the girls in his year that she came from an _abnormal_ family because she had two moms instead of a mom and dad? She slapped him, then got detention for it. How is that fair?”

“It’s not,” Marc agrees, clenching his fist out of Niklas’s line of sight because he can already see where this is going.

“Their mom, she’s a model. She does that dancing show like Aunt Cathy used to, and everyone at school talks about how pretty she is, and how she could marry anyone even if she’s not so young anymore; that she’s too famous to marry someone who isn’t. And everyone knows a little about Papa, and _he’s_ famous, isn’t he? And their friends keep telling Paulo that his mom has _options_ ,” he spits the word out so Marc can almost taste the venom, “and that if it isn’t Papa, what about Papa’s friends who are also famous and come to the school sometimes? But Paulo says he doesn’t _approve_ of Papa because then he’d have me and Lex as step-brothers - as though I’d let anyone in his family get that close to Papa in the first place!”

Marc is trying very hard to breathe steadily now, so incredibly angry on behalf of his sons. “Niklas, why didn’t you or Lex say something as soon as it started?” he demands, frustrated and angry at the fact that his kids could have been getting bullied for God knows how long. “You should have told us! If this Paulo is trying to bully you and your brother, you need to tell someone at school!”

“That’s the problem,” the young man says, getting agitated. “He doesn’t do anything outright, he just likes hinting and pretending to joke around, making stupid comments about Papa being alone, and it really really makes me wanna punch him in the face!”

“I hope you realise how bad that idea is,” Marc points out, getting just as agitated but feeling the need to still be a responsible adult.

“I know _that_ ,” Niklas says, giving his dad a disbelieving look.

“Just making sure,” Marc he says slowly, trying to project understanding in his voice. “But what’s that got to do with what happened today? I get why you hate the sons, but why the mother?” It should be strange that he has no idea who this supposed famous model is, but right now, his care factor is in the negative numbers.

Niklas gives him a side-look, scowling again, then looks back down. “I heard her, last week, when you and André came to pick us up; asking Paulo if it was true that you were still single. You didn’t have your wedding ring on, and you didn’t wear it today either.”

So _that’s_ what it was, then; the reason behind Niklas’s outburst, the accusations of flirting and the hurt that Niklas was carrying. It must have been weeks, months, and maybe even _years_ of anger that their sons had been enduring that he knew nothing about - it had all come together that afternoon simply because of a misunderstanding.

And at that point, all the anger that Marc had felt while Niklas was talking is pointed at himself. He could have avoided this; even if there was a perfectly legitimate reason why his ring was around his neck and not on his hand - a reason that Niklas would, on any other day, accept as normal and not at all out of the ordinary; this whole sordid scenario wouldn’t have happened if he’d just been wearing it when he’d gone to pick up the kids.

There was some incredibly twisted logic as to why they’d gotten here, though. Even though he couldn’t control the actions of the two boys, they should have foreseen some sort of schoolyard bullying going on. Their decision to make Bernd the “sole” parent in order to shield the twins from uncomfortable questions at a young age? Well, that was backfiring on them now.

They'd tried to do the right thing by them, choosing to give them the chance to grow up without the invasive scrutiny that Jogi, Julian and later, Astrid had to endure since Marco and Mario confirmed their relationship. They’d decided to divide up the main responsibilities of being there for the twins depending on who was best suited: the boys were enrolled with their Leno surname at school so it had made sense that Bernd would look after the school side of things, that and the fact that Bernd didn’t have any set hours to be in his office; when the boys started playing with ‘Gladbach, it was only natural that Marc would be the one mainly responsible for their football activities.

And for the most part, it had worked. Marc _did_ go to any important school functions and Bernd also went to practices and games, albeit both staying in the background for most of the time. Never once had the twins complained about the arrangement, seemingly just accepting it as normal, but Marc is starting to think that they’d kept quiet all this time just because they didn’t feel like the could change the situation. And this was another thing that was making things worse, because if Marc had known what was going on at school, media be damned, he would have shown up at the school gates before and after school everyday the boys needed him, then deal with the media consequences later; his sons came first, their family always would.

He’d have to talk to Bernd as soon as he got home so that they could revise their plan, decide that maybe it was time to let the world know about him, about _them_ , and maybe then they could spare the twins some heartache even if they couldn’t protect them from everything.

Marc-André is still fuming. ‘Abnormal family’, indeed. What the fuck? Marc wonders if that woman (he’s subconsciously taken on Niklas’ reaction to the mother, and Marc can’t even regret how much _dislike_ he has for her now even if he’d only exchanged a few pleasant sentences with her) knew how her children were acting at school, and if yes, why she hadn’t corrected them.

He’s not going to dwell on a stranger’s lack of parenting skills, though, because he has bigger worries right now.

“Niklas,” he says as gently as possible. “Just so you know, I will be the first person to fight if they - or anyone - even _try_ to break up our family. I have no problems in shoving my wedding ring up in anyone’s face to prove that I’m happily married and that you and Lex are my kids. And just because they think that either me or Papa are good enough for their mother, that doesn’t mean that we agree or are interested. Seriously? Former football player or not, we’re just too old to be playing this game anymore. I can almost guarantee you that we’re not going to be of any interest to them once they find someone younger, more popular, to set up with their mother - do you understand?”

Niklas doesn’t say anything, so Marc decides that it’s time to be firmer. “Do you understand?” he asks again, tilting his son’s face so that they can look at each other eye-to-eye.

The young man swallows, then nods, letting his words finally sink in and give him some sort of comfort.

“We’ll talk again tonight, all of us, but for now, you can rest if you want. Do you have homework?”

Niklas nods, but doesn’t move, and Marc pulls him in one more time. He can’t remember when the last time he’d held either of the boys so much since they started high school, and he suddenly wishes that he’d been more balanced in giving them space now that they were no longer kids with still showering them with affection - maybe then Niklas wouldn’t have doubted him so quickly.

“Do you want to stay here with me?”

The question makes Niklas stiffen, probably reminding him that he’s a man now and sitting in his father’s lap while he worked wasn’t something he did anymore. “It’s fine, I’m going to my room,” he says instead, disentangling himself from Marc.

Marc doesn’t stop him, just caresses Niklas’s cheek as he walks out of the study, and it pains him momentarily that they’d grown up so quickly.

They don’t end up having the family talk that night because Bernd makes it home only in time for dinner, and the boys go straight to their rooms after. Marc had already filled Bernd in on what happened, so he’d done the clean up as Bernd headed upstairs to talk to them.

Alexei comes down as Marc is putting the pots away, wrapping his arms around his dad’s waist, mumbling an apology into Marc’s chest.

“What for?” Marc asks, bewildered, even as he holds his younger son to him.

“For not telling you about Mario and Paulo. I was, I was angry too,” the young man admits, and Marc sighs.

“You can’t let people bully you, Lex,” he says. “And you have to tell us when it happens, okay? How are we supposed to help you deal with it if we don’t know about it?”

“That’s what Papa said, too,” Alexei says.

“Well you should listen to us, then.”

Alexei lets go of Marc after a few more moments, then says hesitantly, “I know you wouldn’t do anything, Dad.” He doesn’t elaborate - doesn’t need to. “We were just angry. You wouldn’t do that, you love Papa too much.”

The relief hits Marc like a sucker punch, and it’s all he can do keep his voice light. “And you and Nik, too. I’m not going to do anything to lose any of you.”

Alexei just nods, gives Marc one last hug before heading back upstairs.

Bernd is still in Niklas’s room when he finally makes it upstairs, so Marc decides to get ready for bed despite it being early still; it had been an exhausting day and he really didn’t want to do anything but curl up in front of mindless TV until Bernd was done. When he comes out after a longer-than-usual shower, Niklas is standing hesitantly in the doorway of their bedroom, and Marc smiles at him, encouraging him to come in even as Bernd gently nudges Niklas towards him.

“I’m sorry,” Niklas mumbles as he steps into Marc’s arms again. “I shouldn’t have said what I said; I didn’t really mean it. I know you wouldn’t.” Again, just like with Alexei, further explanation isn’t needed.

“I’m glad,” Marc says, the relief coming at him in waves again. “It’s good to know that my sons don’t think I’m an asshole of a father.”

“Language!” Niklas and Bernd say simultaneously, reflexively, and Marc smiles.

“I don’t care what they say,” Niklas says after a pause. “You and Papa are the best parents in the world. I don’t care if I have two dads instead of a mom and dad - I’d take you over _her_ any day.”

Marc’s eyes meet Bernd’s over their son’s head, and he can’t help letting out a small laugh. “You should get some rest, finish your homework if you have to.” He presses his lips to Niklas’s temple one last time before letting him go.

“Love you, Dad,” Niklas says even as he walks out, making Marc inhale at how his chest is ready to burst.

“What about me?” Bernd asks in mock hurt, smiling when Niklas sticks his head back in the room with a soft “love you, Papa,” before heading to Alexei’s room.

They’ll talk well into the night - they’d always shared things with each other more than they did with them - but Marc’s just too relieved that they’d gotten through the day okay.

“You alright?” Bernd asks, concerned.

“Yeah,” he laughs lightly. “Like I said, nice to know my kids don’t think I’m an asshole.”

“Marc, don’t,” Bernd admonishes gently, trying to draw him close.

Marc resists half-heartedly, but lets himself get pulled in, letting Bernd comfort him because he’s exhausted and needed this. “Wanna tell me what you guys talked about?”

“Pretty much what you told me, except they wanted to know if I actually talked to that woman.”

“Had you before? I don’t remember you ever mentioning her.”

“Never.”

“Really?”

“Which is why it surprised me that those other kids even knew who I was. I mean, I don’t even remember meeting them.”

“Your surname’s pretty well known,” Marc points out.

“Not really,” Bernd disagrees. “That was too long ago, and there’s lots of other more famous parents there.”

“You think they could be bullying the twins?”

“Not sure, but I’m still not happy about the things they’re saying.”

“Me neither. What are we gonna do?”

“Wanna come out?” Bernd asks softly.

“What I _really_ want do is smack those kids around the mouth for saying such rubbish,” Marc says, “but we can do that too.”

“Do you think it will help? I mean, from what they were saying, all we need to do is make sure our wedding rings are obvious, and that should fix _that_ particular problem.”

“True,” Marc agrees. “But I don’t think it will stop totally. Did Nik mention being teased because it’s usually only you who goes to their school things?”

“Actually, no,” Bernd says, frowning.

“He didn’t make a big deal about it, but I think it’s starting to wear on them that people think they only have one parent. They think they can’t talk about me; I don’t think I like that.”

Bernd takes a couple of deep breaths. “What do you think about letting _them_ decide? About telling people about us? That way, they don’t feel restricted, that they have to do it, and it will - hopefully - make them feel like we trust them.”

Marc looks at him quietly for a few moments, then nods. “Yeah, that sounds like a better plan.”

“We’ll talk to them tomorrow and see what they think.”

“You still want me to do the school run tomorrow, then?”

“If you can.”

Marc hums his affirmative, trying to relax. When Bernd tugs him towards the bed, he goes easily enough, glad for the comfort and the closeness. He can’t get to sleep immediately, though, and he’s tossing again when Bernd asks him what he’s thinking about.

“I still can’t get over how easily Niklas thought I could cheat,” he explains, hurt lacing his voice. “How could he think I could do that?”

“Well, everyone’s capable given enough reasons,” Bernd says.

It’s not the response Marc is expecting. “What?” he asks in disbelief. “Are you saying that _you_ think I would?”

“Of course not,” Bernd says, not letting Marc push away. “I’m saying that _technically_ , you could, but I don’t think you would.”

“Technically, I could?” Marc asks, voice frosty.

“You’ve done it before - we both have, with each other, remember? - so technically, yes, you could.”

Marc can feel the anger bubbling in him at Bernd’s words, but he swallows it down and really thinks about what his husband said. “Just because I have the capacity to do it, doesn’t mean I want to.”

“And the boys actually know that - they apologised, right?”

“Did you make them?”

“No. I _did_ point out how unfair it was to make assumptions, though.”

“Fucking assumptions,” Marc growls, remembering how much hurt they’d both gone through all those years ago because of making bad assumptions.

“Language,” Bernd says automatically, then laughs when Marc pinches him. “At least we’re learning,” he murmurs as an afterthought.

“About fucking time,” Marc mutters, making Bernd laugh some more.

Marc is almost asleep when the last thing nagging at his mind creeps up again, and he knows he needs to address it before it sets in and festers. “You said you didn’t _think_ I would.”

“Yes?” Bernd murmurs, sounding slightly unsure.

“You should _know_ I wouldn’t, Bernd.”

Bernd grasps him tighter. “Sorry, bad choice of words. You’re right, I _do_ know. I’d fucking kill you if you even thought about it.”

“That goes both ways, asshole.”

“No need for name calling,” Bernd says, placing soft kisses under his jaw.

Marc laughs lightly, feeling the tension and stress slowly ebb out of him, and dips his head to nuzzle against Bernd’s cheek. “Love you,” he whispers, so thankful that they’re still here.

Bernd doesn’t say anything, just places three short kisses on the corner of Marc’s mouth, runs his hands under his shirt and draws him close for deeper kisses, encouraging Marc to sink into him. It’s late before they finally sleep, but the hurt has been loved away and Marc can feel more at peace knowing his sons didn’t actually think so lowly of him.

**Author's Note:**

> \--  
> I have a [tumblr account ](https://khalehla.tumblr.com) for my writings and random ficlets. If you have a question about this or any of my other stories, come say hi :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I write **fiction** about real people. As far as I know, none of these events ever happened; any resemblance to any actual events are purely coincidental.


End file.
